


Joe was Turquoise

by Awesomepie3221



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, can be Joetrick if u want it to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 10:38:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7681099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awesomepie3221/pseuds/Awesomepie3221
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick was fascinated with Joe's name. It was so much more than he could ever describe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joe was Turquoise

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I didn’t write this meaning to be joetrick, but oh well. It can be interpreted as that or not, whatever you prefer. I’m still peterick trash. Written for fobcc!

Patrick Stump had grapheme-color synesthesia. He didn’t get a name for it until he was an adult, but it was always there. When he first learned the alphabet, he saw the colors in the letters that were prominent to him. He figured this was a normal thing every kid did, and he never mentioned it. It wasn’t until he was talking to his friend in eighth grade and asked her what color she saw his name. She was confused and had him write it down.

“I see the color of the pencil,” she told him. It wasn’t a colored pencil; it was a regular yellow number two pencil. “Do you see anything different?” she curiously asked.

Patrick, with brows furrowed in confusion, looked at his name. “Well, yeah, I thought everyone did,” he started. “Patrick’s a dull, light yellow. Stump is a light blue.”

“Really? That’s so cool! I don’t see anything when I look at your name, except the lead color. What’s my name?”

Patrick was still confused that what he experienced wasn’t a regular thing, but he did what she asked.

“It’s a rosy pink, like your cheeks when you blush.” She smiled at him.

 

Patrick became obsessed with names after that. He stopped thinking about the individual colors in the letters and instead looked at the word in a whole. Every time he was introduced to someone new he thought about their name for hours. He slowly taught himself how to describe what it was to his liking. Often times, he would get behind in class, or get sent to the office for not paying attention during the first week when he got new classes with new faces and new names. The names would always be so juicy to think about, and Patrick believed that that was more important than the actual work.

Out of the hundreds of people he described perfectly, one always stood out to him: Joseph Trohman. He met Joe when he was 17 years old and after that, his thoughts were never the same.

He never got enough of his name. Joe was so much more than just a few things that were his assigned color.

No, Joe was ten times that.

Joe was the color of the ocean right before the deep end, the clean color of new sneakers, perfect frosting on a cupcake that was too good to be true, hair that every girl died for but could never afford to do. He was the candle that smelled like sea breeze that made Patrick want to cry when it burned out, the background of an inspirational message, a nail color that was hard to find but once it was found nothing could break that smile, the ice cream flavor Patrick would always get as a kid that disappeared once he got older. He was the glitter that girls at school used to sprinkle on their eyeshadow, the water bottle that a girl in all of Patrick’s classes would bring to school every day, throw pillows with black swirls in them, and the measuring tape his height was always measured with. Joseph Trohman was all that and everything in between.

Joe was the only one to cloud Patrick’s thoughts for weeks. Every new name instantly disappeared and was replaced by Joe. It was all Joe.

Joe, Joe, Joe.

Through the rest of his years, no one compared to Joe. He eventually starting thinking of other names again, but no one’s name was as beautiful, complex, and unique as Joe’s. Every night he would fall asleep thinking of new things to describe Joe’s name, every day he would walk around and stop, thinking _Is that him? Is that good enough?_

Because Joe was the feathers on an exotic bird: so beautiful you could never look away. Joe was a flower painted expertly in water color, the color that always complimented a beach house, earrings that were far too big for anyone to wear, butterflies that were gorgeous and always required thousands of pictures, dyed flowers bought every day to give as anniversary presents. Joseph Trohman was all that and so much more.

Joseph Trohman was turquoise.

And Joseph Trohman was the only turquoise Patrick ever found.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is officialbillhader c:


End file.
